Short story inspired by "Idea for a Sign" by Lydia Davis.
I'm not one of those annoying patrons of the bus who spends the entire trip on their phone. Believe me that is not me.
You
will not hear what I did throughout the day; will not hear what she did
or did not do; will not hear about how sick I have felt all day, making
you wonder if I am still contagious; would not ride the bus if I was
contagious, unless, of course, I had to, which I wouldn't; will not hear
how I can't wait until I get home; how slow the bus driver is driving;
how bad traffic is. Of course you can see those things for yourself so
why would I say them? I will not laugh loudly and unexpectedly, causing
you to spill your coffee on your shirt and bag; would never get an
argument on the phone, how awkward to hear a one-sided argument; will
not have the ringer obnoxiously loud then answer the phone just as
loudly to say "I'm on the bus!".
Unless, of course, someone calls me.
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